


it could've been (should've been) worse than you would ever know

by amongthieves



Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: 'I feel like I owe you', Benji is Best Dog, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Favours Exchanged, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, or so I try, three parter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:20:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amongthieves/pseuds/amongthieves
Summary: Bill saves Holden's life in Atlanta. Holden's not sure how to thank him but he figures it out in due time.
Relationships: Holden Ford/Bill Tench
Comments: 17
Kudos: 94





	1. strangers to ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while since i've been excited about writing something, and this is similar to what I was writing before but it's a fresh start. I crave anything that involves these two, because they're so good in so many different dynamics together. plus, I just adore writing the mundane and making it heart warming or emotional. please enjoy!
> 
> ps. titles inspired by modest mouse! that's the vibe for this story!

Atlanta does them dirty.

Bill's stomach is killing him from the amount of shit food from the airport, from the quick grab-and-go junk wrapped in tinfoil, from the constant state of anxiety about Brian that he pushes down. It's not that he feels his own anxiety, it's that his wife's constant state is starting to rub off on him. It's surprise visit after surprise visit when he's not there, and he can hear the desperation in Nancy's voice when she asks him if he can just stay home for a week.

Holden, on the other end, has never taken his eyes off the case. He's putting in the hours, letting Bill go when he needs to see the fucking psychologist for his kid. Holden doesn't know it, but Bill's family life is crumbling at home. He's trying, but goddamn -

Seeing all the murdered kids turning up is starting to get to him. The photos in his briefcase, carried home, locked away. Not that it matters much - with Brian having first hand witness to a body. To death. To something that he's too young to even understand, to think it's some sort of game.

Bill's not an idiot. He connects the dots, but keeps his mouth shut. His kid'll be fine. He has to be.

It scares the living hell out of him.

Nancy starts smoking again and the smell doesn't phase Bill in the slightest, but the image of her sitting out back, mind a million miles away-

The couch. The fucking couch. Why's she gotta be thinking about that?

He remembers smoking with Nancy, lying in bed, devilish grins exchanged. It used to rile him up, seeing her lips around a cigarette. But her going on about bath time, the relief of Brian's adoption-

It turns him cold. 

He tries to find warmth in taking Brian for ice cream, but it never materializes; the icy sensation never leaves his body.

Not even when he touches back down in Atlanta and feels sticky from the heat. Not when Holden asks where he's been, taking him aside for a moment, nose flaring with irritation. The prick only thinks about himself. 

Take a fucking Valium.

Out of all things Holden looks most surprised about is the comment about Ted Gunn, and his job babysitting. Never mind the whole my son witnessed a murder. Holden's one weird fucking guy.

It makes Bill snort later on in the day, when he's replaying the interaction out in his mind, with Holden sitting behind him.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing." 

Holden cracks open a window, turning his nose up. Bill takes the moment to blow a plume of smoke in his direction. The peanut butter sandwiches that Holden supplied lay between them, untouched. 

"Did you get any asleep last night?" Holden always has to talk about something. Always.

"No."

"Glad to know I'm not the only one suffering here. What about the bug bites?"

"What about them, Holden?"

"They driving you crazy too?"

"I try not to think about it." There's a stretch of silence before the sound of scratching fills the car. It stops and they both sigh heavily.

"I'm sorry, Bill-"

"Don't. Like I said, I don't need your-"

"I know. I'm still sorry. That's all. Thanks... for coming to Atlanta. I'm glad I have you to lean on." Holden sits in the backseat, eyes scanning the horizon towards the bridge. Bill looks in the rearview mirror, studying Holden's profile, and the slight pudginess that he never noticed. To his surprise, the term baby-faced comes to mind.

Bill doesn't bother giving him a response. His eyes focus back on the bridge. They both stare without saying anything else.

-

They're running out of time. Bill watches as Holden walks the asphalt along the bridge, peering over the edge. He climbs up, leaning heavily over the bridge, trying to get a glimpse of something below. 

The day's particularly hot, and Bill can see the sweat stains underneath Holden's white button up. There's one other officer nearby, pissing off the edge of the bridge and watching it hit the river below.

When Bill looks back at Holden, he's gone. 

"Holden?" Bill steps forward, feeling his heart skip.

There's a sudden splash of water. 

Bill rushes to the bridge's edge, peering over, watching water ripple below him. Fatigue forces his brain to process slowly, and by the time it clicks, his legs have already began to carry him down around the edge, loose dirt tumbling underneath his feet.

Other officers rush over to investigate the sound, and Bill wastes no time in jumping into the murky waters without a visual on Holden. The water chills him, and he can't breathe momentarily as he accidentally swallows a mouthful of river water. He reaches blindly, swimming with the current. After what feels like an eternity, he see Holden's body float upwards, slowly dragging along.

There's shouting above him, and Bill feels the voices fade away as he grabs Holden's wrist. Holden's eyes flutter open and closed and he's of no help to move.

It takes everything Bill has to pull him back to the shore, and by the time he gets them both out of the water, Holden is delirious and Bill feels like vomiting. He collapses the two of them into the mud. Three officers are suddenly on them, and Barney is at Bill’s back, and Bill can't hear what they're saying.

His focus is on Holden, who begins coughing as he rolls over onto his side. Bill grabs onto the front of his shirt and shakes him.

"What the fuck, Ford? What the fuck was that?" The surrounding officers quickly back off, giving them some space as Bill begins to feel a burning rage.

"I-..." Holden's expression is bleary, someone who's just woken from a deep nap, trying to look around to get his bearings. "I don't know-" And it's enough of an answer for Bill to notice how white his knuckles are, and he lets go of Holden's shirt. Holden gently pushes himself up, but it's weak, and Bill tells one of the officers that he's going to drive this idiot to the hospital.

When Holden's brought to the hospital, he tells Bill that he doesn't need to be checked out, he'll be fine. Bill gets the idea that Holden's probably not too fond of them now, and he can see a look of fear in his face, but Bill says he's not chancing it. "Just go into the fucking hospital. I'll be waiting."

Barney’s been by with genuine concern for Holden. Bill tells him he doesn’t need to wait up, he’ll update him when he can.

Four hours later, Bill sits in a waiting room chair, almost done with his fourth cigarette.

Holden stops in front of him, holding a bag of his wet clothing. He's wearing clothes provided by Bill (again), and he looks ridiculous in a baggy polo shirt.

"They said I'm good to go."

"Alright." Bill stands without so much of a second glance, and he feels Holden follow him out of the front doors. They slide into his cruiser, and Bill leans back in his chair.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck happened?"

"I... haven't been eating or sleeping well - and mix that in with the new medication... The doctors said it must have been from exhaustion or... something. That I just fell over because I didn't have enough energy. All I remember was that I was looking at something in the water in the river below and suddenly..." Bill can feel Holden look over at him. "You had me on shore."

"Fucking idiot." Bill laughs and flicks his cigarette outside of the car. "Just because you didn't eat your damn PB and J, you fell off a bridge? Christ, Holden. Get yourself together."

"You saved my life, Bill. I'm grateful."

"Yeah, well, drowning in a river in Atlanta seems like a pretty shitty way to go. Thought I'd spare you the fate."

They both exchange smiles, and Bill thinks nothing of it.

They bag the murderer for two of the kills. As Gunn passes on the news, the amount of relief that washes over him has Bill internally shouting 'hallelujah!'. He can go home now, fix his mess of a marriage, and get everything back on track. They've paid their dues. Barney tells them that he’ll visit at some point, he’s always wanted to check out the East. It’s forgotten as soon as they board the jet.

On the plane ride back, Holden sits next to him. They've got plenty of space, especially on the jet, and Bill's about to get up and move to another seat when Holden's head falls over onto his shoulder, and the kid is fast asleep.

The flight attendant brings him another whiskey, and she gives him a small look of adoration with his partner resting against him. The kind of look a puppy or kitten would get. He looks out the window of the plane, sees the white clouds resting in the sky, and closes his eyes.

-

He sits on their stripped bed, alone, and stares at the wall, where a landscape painting had previously hung. After everything she had said, had done, he hadn't expected this. 

His fist collides with the bed post, knocking the wooden round tip off. It stings to all hell, and he shakes his hand after the lashing and feels tears well up in his eyes for the first time in years.

"Fuck."

It's a Friday. He has all weekend to wallow in this feeling of self-pity.

-

He goes to work on Monday without mentioning anything about Nancy. His hand is bruised and he tries not to draw much attention to it. FBI agents congratulate him, and Gunn pulls him into his office to give him a generous new raise. It's mentioned that it's part of some new funding they received, and Bill's not sure how to react. The money is a nice perk of his job, but it's not everything.

"Can't we use it for the department?"

Gunn looks at him like he's crazy, and tells him to take a victory lap. The words sour Bill's mood. In addition of the raise, they'll be moving from the basement to the third floor. A four floor jump in one go? Gunn mentions that Bill should be over the moon! Bill thanks him, tries to manage a smile with enthusiasm, and shakes his hand with vigour. 

"Good job on wrangling Holden. I hear it's a tough gig."

The descent to the basement comforts him slightly, and when he walks out into the office, he's surprised to hear laughing.

Both Wendy and Holden are smiling as he rounds the door, and they both look at him and then immediately back to each other.

"What did I miss?" His eyes go to the collection of baked goods on Holden's desk, a few of them picked over by whoever had been in prior. He walks up, picks up a cookie, and munches on it. The icing is a little too sweet for his taste. There's a 'congratulations' card beside the snacks, and Bill touches it, looking at the picture of a celebratory kitten on the front.

"What happened to your hand?" Holden asks, voice airy and unassuming. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Bill moves away, taking an additional cookie with him. He goes to his office and closes the door behind him.

It doesn't take too long before there's a knock and Bill tells whoever to come in. He looks up from the case files, the photos of the dead boys, and hears Holden clear his throat.

"I got you something."

"Pardon?"

"Just shut up for a second, Bill."

Bill takes off his glasses and throws them onto the desk. Holden flinches, but holds out a small wrapped box. When Bill doesn't take it from him, he places it cautiously on the desk.

"Holden-"

And Holden doesn't answer him, turning away and stepping out, closing the door with a quiet click. Bill's eyes fall on the box, and he grabs it, running the wrapping material under his thumb. With curious hands, he unwraps it and after taking the lid off, he snorts looks away.

When he looks back at it, the shot glass of Atlanta's skyline accompanied by a gold metal lighter with the etchings of a north star seems a bit overzealous for a thank you gift. Bill's not sure whether to be annoyed by the gesture, or to actually be thankful.

He puts it in his desk, snaking the lighter into his coat pocket. Good timing considering his previous lighter is almost out. He sets the old one on his desk, touching the faint dings and marks in it. A gift from Nancy, back in the 50s. With a heavy heart, he stores it in one of his drawers, next to his ashtray. He doesn't even have any photos of them together anymore.

The only photo remains a school photo of Brian, tucked away in his wallet. He kicks himself for not keeping any wedding photos on him.

-

Bill doesn't sell the house. Instead, he gets a dog. A german shepard named Benji, who the neighbours seem to fall in love with. He's a little high energy for Bill, but he makes it work and decides to put in the time to walk him every damn day - before and after work. In the evenings, when the house is too quiet, the jogs provide a comfort as Benji rolls along beside him.

In a million years, Bill never thought he'd take up any sort of fitness routine. But he needs to - for Benji.

One hot summer afternoon, after stepping outside and seeing the mess his lawn is - he decides to get down and dirty.

He spends the weekend in the dirt, weeding and lawn mowing, getting rid of the strange vines that begin to grow from the flower beds. They're flowerless and dark green, and Bill pricks himself on a thorn, drawing blood. He curses and Benji runs up to him, barking and jumping. Bill manages to get him down and heads inside to wash his hands.

After contemplating a sudden thought for a moment, he moves to the phone. It rings several times, and just as he's about to hang up, the line picks up.

"Hello?"

"Holden, it's Bill-"

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's good." Bill looks at Benji, who sits on the kitchen floor, head tilted to the side as he watches Bill. "Look, I gotta go to the hardware store and pick up a few things." He reaches over to a jar on the counter, stretching the phone cord as far as it can go. 

"Oh. Uh, sure, Bill. See you in a couple of hours?"

"See you soon."

Bill sets a treat on Benji's nose and hangs up the phone. Benji waits patiently before Bill snaps his fingers, and Benji knocks the treat to the floor and inhales it.

The trip to the hardware store is a quick one and it's smartly located near a gardening depot. He swings by, picking up lumber to make his own plant beds, gardening gloves, fertilizer, fresh grass, and a couple of plants to plant in the flower beds to replace the vines. He notices an old friend of Nancy's, and he moves quickly, keeping his head down.

He hasn't heard if she's seeing anyone, and she wouldn't dare tell him if she were, but Brian seems to be struggling just as much as when they left. For whatever reason, Nancy won't let him try and fix things, to step in and intervene.

'What the kid needs is his father, Nancy. Do I need to be concerned? Get the police involved?'

'No, Bill. He needs to be as far away from you and your work as possible. I'm with my sister, and it's fine. We have it under control.'

If circumstances were different, if Brian had shown any sort of affection or indication of joy around him, then maybe he would have fought more. What he doesn't understand is Nancy's motive to try this on her own - is it spite? Anger? Or perhaps there's more to the iceberg than Bill had initially thought.

Bill should know this shit.

When Holden shows up in a cab, Bill's hunched over a particularly difficult weed that runs deep. He doesn't even notice him show up at first, too busy on ripping into the soil, digging rock and thick clumps dirt out of the way. 

He only notices Holden when he stands in front of the sun, blocking out the heat that beats down onto Bill's slightly burned neck.

"Gardening, huh?"

"Yeah."

Holden pulls a beer out of the case and hands it to Bill. With a smile, Bill takes it and takes the bottle cap off with a trowel. Holden holds out his own beer for Bill to do the same, and he hands it back with a satisfied smirk when the cap falls into the grass.

"Pull up a chair, or something. There's some inside."

He takes a generous series of sips before setting the beer aside next to the radio. It had died, and Bill hadn't noticed until now. "Huh."

The roots are giving him hell, but Holden's company makes it a little nicer.

"God, Bill, you reek." Bill looks over his shoulder to watch Holden place his chair further back, setting in comfortably at a distance, with a teasing grin on his face. 

"This is the smell of hard physical labour Holden. You wouldn't know that though, would you?"

There's a mumbled comment that Bill doesn't quite catch, but Holden shuts up and drinks quietly as Bill stabs the earth with the trowel. After several successful attempts, he feels the roots give way under the soil and he pulls out the thickest looking tangle of roots he's ever seen.

"Holy shit." Holden says as he sits upright, and Bill looks over his shoulder at him, holding the mess like a trophy.

"Holy shit is right." He throws it in the brown bag that holds about twenty pounds of grass. It feels good.

"It looks good, Bill. Apart from the big hole that you just made." 

"Yeah, well. That won't take too long. Come on, I'll make dinner on the barbecue." And there's almost a little skip to Holden's step as he follows Bill inside, and Bill realizes it's been a while since he's made dinner for anyone else.

"Please clean up first."

"No, I was going to put dirt in your dinner. Christ, yeah, I'll shower. Sit tight."

And Bill disappears to the shower, rinsing off and deeply scrubbing to get all the dirt out of his skin. The new soap he bought smells like pine needles, and he's pleased by his selection. He changes into a new set of clothes, relaxed and casual, and he's glad to be around company that doesn't give a shit about appearances.

When Bill walks over to the fridge to get started, he can feel Holden lean in nearby for a fraction of a second. A small inhale, the smell of forest. Bill almost wants to make a comment, but he bites his tongue.

They decide on hamburgers, and Bill takes his time with them. Gets out a metal bowl he bought from the thrift store, mixes the hamburger in with the egg and spices with his hands, deciding to add in the little bits of cheese he cuts up. The entire time, Holden watches him without saying a word, and he'd say it's out of character for Holden to shut up for more than five minutes at a time, but he knows it must be a sight to behold. 

"I'm surprised you kept this." Holden plucks the Atlanta shot glass out from the drying rack, and Bill shrugs.

"I used it with my rum and Coke last night."

"What about the lighter?"

Bill points to his pocket, and he can almost feel Holden's grin from across the kitchen.

They both stand at the barbecue, and Bill ends up pleased with how the burgers turn out. Cheese perfectly melted, buns fresh from his grocery run yesterday, lettuce shredded, with whatever condiments his or Holden's heart desire.

"This is amazing, Bill."

"Anytime."

About a week ago, Bill had set up a small backyard area. While Nancy had taken the outdoor furniture, Bill was lucky enough to pick up a nice set from a yard sale. They sit on comfortable wooden chairs with plush cushions, and a table between them for their food and drinks. Benji roots around the barbecue, looking for left over hamburger scraps.

They've run out of Holden's beers, and have shifted into Bill's stash.

It's a clear night, and when the sun sets and the moon glows above them, Bill lights up a cigarette. Benji sits at his feet, and Holden has his cheek resting on his fist, other hand around a bottle of half-finished beer on his thigh.

It's a nice way to spend Saturday night.

Holden shivers, and Bill picks it up right away. "Why didn't you say something?" Bill gets up, and Holden lifts his head with a sleepy expression.

"Wha- no, I'm okay. It's all good, Bill-" But his words fall on deaf ears and Bill heads inside, rummaging through the linen closet. After a moment, he comes back with a heavy blanket from Mexico. A gift from old friends. Left in his closet, along with his shirts and shoes. "Thanks, Bill. You didn't have to."

Holden pulls the blanket up close to his chest, and Bill sits back down, flicking ash into the ashtray he's pulled out. 

"You've done a really good job with Benji."

"He came like this. Coolest dog I've ever met. A complete sucker for fetch." Benji's ears even perk up at the word, and Bill gives him a good scratch. It seems to placate him, and he sets his head down under his crossed paws on the stone tile. 

They go through the rest of Bill's beers (and he's annoyed because he thought he had more), and it's at this time that Bill breaks into the rum and a bottle of Coca-Cola. Holden declines, standing in the kitchen with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

"I should go, Bill. It's getting late. Can I call a cab?"

"Sure. Phone's there." Bill makes himself a drink and leans against the counter, watching as Holden dials the cab company's number. Bill pours him a small drink anyways and hands it to Holden as he gives the address. Holden takes it from him with an icy look, and sips as hangs up.

"They'll be here in thirty."

"Great. You should get yourself a car." There's a few dishes and if Bill's smart about it, he can get it done before he goes to bed tonight. That leaves nothing but relaxation for tomorrow. 

It's Holden's turn to shrug. "Eventually, I guess."

When Bill starts washing the plates and bowl, Holden takes the wet items out of the drying rack and finds a rag to polish them off with. "Hey, you don't need to do that." Bill frowns at him, and Holden looks around for the spot to put the dishes. Bill points at a cupboard.

"I owe you one for dinner."

"You don't owe me anything."

"I think I do, Bill. For the river-"

"Will you shut up about the river? You would have done the same for me."

"I..." Holden puts the glasses away, sliding the shot glass in between them. "I wanted to thank you properly." The look of exasperation that Bill gives Holden makes him stand stiff, and a blush creeps up to his ears. Bill flicks water at him and Holden flinches, slowly opening one eye. "Did you just flick water at me?"

"I did. Now be quiet and finish helping me before your cab shows up."

"Bill, I want to thank you properly-"

"You a broken record, Holden? You got me the set with-"

Holden steps up behind him and gently puts a hand on his shoulder, and Bill feels the warmth from his fingers sink in through his shirt.

"I got thirty minutes, Bill."

"You out of your fucking mind?" Bill turns around with a sharp expression, knocking Holden's hand off his frame. This time, to Bill's surprise, Holden doesn't flinch. "What's your deal, Ford?"

"Bill, come on... I'll go wait outside if you don't want it but just think about it for a second-"

"No, I don't want whatever you're offering, Holden." And when Holden steps back, the warmth goes with him. Bill doesn't look at him as Holden resigns and leaves to the entranceway, pulls on his jacket and closes the front door soundlessly. 

Standing in the kitchen, with a sponge and the final dirty dish, Bill huffs. He scrubs the plate in the lukewarm water, clearing it off before setting it in the drying rack. He leans against the sink counter, wondering what the hell is happening. 

Bill doesn't look for extreme recognition - he does things for reasons of his own. He grew up without much praise, often a word or two from his father while they went fishing. His mother had loved him, but often had her hands full with his brothers. Jobs were typically completed without much thanks, and that's just how it was.

What Holden's doing is completely overboard, but after taking some time to think about it, it lines up exactly with Holden's martyr ego. Benji sits on the door mat, tail wagging. Bill moves three steps, stops himself, but then moves again, grabbing the leash off the wall. He slips on a jacket and steps out into the night, seeing his breath in the air as the crisp evening sinks in around him. 

Standing at the edge of the lawn on the curb, Holden has his hands in his pocket and turns his head from looking at the sky. The jingle of the leash gives Bill away, and Holden looks bashful.

"Sorry, it should be here soon."

"Don't bother. Come walk Benji with me." And he sees Holden's hesitation, but quizzical acceptance as he falls into step with Bill.

They walk silently around the neighbourhood. The street lamps flicker above them as they pass, and no one else runs into them. Benji trots on, barking once at something he notices in the dark of the night, but quiets when Bill calls him sternly.

When they arrive back at the house, a cab waits at the curbside. Holden goes to the driver's side to talk to the cab driver through the window, and Bill can see him pay him something for his troubles. He waits, and Holden walks back over as the cab drives away down the street.

Bill sort of expects Holden to descend upon him like Nosferatu, thirsty for his blood, but Holden is slow and methodical as always. He slips his shoes off and slides out of his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. 

"Do you want to be touched?"

Bill gives him a look of 'what the fuck do you think we're doing here?' and Holden smiles slightly.

"I meant like this." And Holden moves over to Bill, touches his chest, slides his hand up over onto his shoulder before grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him in close. "Well?"

Bill grunts, which Holden takes it as a supposed yes and kisses him. Bill can taste the beer they've been drinking, and it's softer than he had expected a man's mouth to be. They're both cold, but Holden's hand on the back of his neck feels hot.

"None of that." And Holden looks a little surprised, but begins to work on Bill's belt. Before Bill can say anything, Holden's got it undone and slides his hand down the front of his trousers.

"Better, Bill?"

-

They finish up in the bedroom, and Bill's pants and briefs are the only things on the floor. Holden smirks as he pulls away, keeping his mouth closed as stands from his kneeling position and disappears from the bedroom.

Bill heaves a sigh of relief, feeling the pleasurable tingle of his orgasm continue to travel throughout his body. It had felt good. Part of him had been terrified of not being into seeing Holden's mouth around him, in having a limp dick and having to cut the whole thing short. Though, some minuscule thought tells him that the image of Holden's lips around him was definitely going to make him hard. He hates the thought, has no idea where it comes from.

He hears Holden spit in the bathroom before turning the sink taps on.

They had taken longer than he thought, and he's not sure if any cab will come and get Holden at this hour. So instead of making him walk home, he pulls on his boxers and goes out into the hall, looking for a set of linens for Holden. After looking in several sparse closets, he finally remembers his spare blanket is outside.

He looks out through the window to see it drizzling. Knowing it's probably better to bring the blanket inside than leave it out all night, he opens the back door a crack and quickly grabs it. The blanket is damp to the touch. He wrings it out the best he can but realizes that it's not going to be comfortable for the night. It's thrown over the back of a wooden chair to dry out.

Returning to the bathroom, he finds it empty, and looks at the bedroom's open door. Perhaps he can find a large jacket, or something warm enough, for Holden to sleep on the couch with.

"Holden? My only spare blanket is wet."

"Mm?" Holden raises his head slightly from Bill's second pillow, his clothes on the floor near the foot of the bed.

Oh. So this is how it was going to be.

"Nothing." Bill hesitates, but then takes off his shirt, tossing it into the laundry basket, along with his trousers. After several seconds, he decides to keep his boxers on and slides cautiously into bed.

Holden rolls over and shuffles closer to Bill.

"You're so warm..." Holden tucks his head under Bill's chin, and Bill doesn't absolutely detest it, so he stays his ground and lets Holden invade his personal space like no other.

They fall asleep like that. When Bill wakes with a headache, Holden's bare back is turned to him. A reminder of the night before. A draft comes in through the window, which he notices is cracked open. Rolling over, the clock on his bedside reads 6:47am. The minute flicks over. 6:48am.

The morning feels damp, and Bill sighs as he gets up and closes the window, the sill wet from last night's rain. Benji raises his head, and goes back to sleep on the floor on Bill's side of the bed.

Just as he's about to place his head back upon the pillow, to resign to a bigger hangover in a couple hours time, the doorbell rings. With a start, he sits up, and Holden somehow sleeps through it. With a sense of curiosity, Bill pulls on a housecoat and walks down the hall.  
Through the front window, he sees a familiar car. Nancy's car. His heart jumps into his throat and he's at the door.

“Nancy?"

She and Brian look at him with surprised smiling faces.

"Sorry to be here so early and to drop in without calling but... We were in the area and wanted to talk. Didn't we, Brian?" Nancy looks down at Brian with a hopeful smile, and the corner of Brian's mouth moves, almost into a smile. It's good enough for Nancy, and she looks back at Bill. They both look tired. "May we?"

"Yeah, of course." Bill steps aside and allows them in. "I'll change into something a little more decent, hold on." 

He tries to keep his steps calm, but he feels a need to rush as he goes to the bedroom and closes the door behind him. Holden lazily turns his head and looks at Bill through one eye. Before Holden can say anything, Bill raises his finger to his lips, and it makes Holden raise his head from his pillow with a panicked expression.

Bill gives him a look and Holden slinks back down into the bed.

When he exits the bedroom, he whistles for Benji to follow and closes the door behind him. Brian's eyes light up at the sight of Benji, and he immediately goes down to touch the dog.

"Oh! You got a dog - you never mentioned anything."

"Yeah, well, someone needed to adopt him or he would have been put down." Bill's eyes flicker to Brian, who pays no attention to anything they're saying. "He's a good dog. Really friendly. No idea why he hadn't been picked up. Do you want coffee, or anything?"

"Oh no, that's okay. Thank you though..." Nancy sits on the couch, legs crossed at the ankles. She looks smart, wearing patterned trousers and a black blouse. Her hair is pulled away from her face, and he can see that the past several months haven't been easy on her. It's difficult, to remind himself not to immediately pick up the husband role. He needs to be reserved to a certain extent. "Actually, what I wanted to talk about was visitation."

"Visitation?" Bill feels a little confused, considering the last time they had spoke, Nancy didn't want anything to do with Bill.

"I need help with Brian-"

"Then move back."

Nancy stares at him before chewing the inside of her cheek, returning her gaze to Brian and Benji. "It's not that simple. I started work where we're at, I've signed a one year lease to a gorgeous apartment..."

"You're seeing someone else, aren't you?"

"No." She blushes and that tells Bill all he needs to know. An anger simmers inside of him, but it dies down faster than he anticipates. In fact, he figured it would last until she was at least out the door. But instead, as she looks at him with dewy eyes, he can't find it in himself to be mad at her. She had done the best she could have at the time given the circumstances, and Bill hadn't been supportive in the slightest, at least in her eyes.

Bill had tried.

But Brian had always meant more to her and while Bill had always wanted a child with Nancy, the struggle with Brian had taken that wishful thinking away from him.

"It's okay, Nance. Does Brian like him?"

She looks absolutely gobsmacked, and she immediately busies herself with her hands, looking at her nails, fidgeting with the bracelet she wears. "Well, I haven't introduced Brian to him yet because I wanted to discuss what was happening..."

"We'll get a divorce." He says it so matter of the fact that it feels like a hot stone has sunk into his stomach, and he feels his body tense up. No need to be emotional. Just diplomatic. 

"Oh God." And Nancy starts crying, finally getting Brian's attention.

"Mom, don't cry. Benji's a good dog." Brian stands and walks over to his mom, crawling onto the couch. He sits beside her and Benji trots over to Bill, trying to nudge his hand for a head scratch. His wife cries across from him and he can't do anything about it.

"I know, Brian. I know." She kisses the top of his head, and Bill looks at the coffee table. 

"Maybe you should go. We can talk about things over the phone. Just call me, okay? I get concerned when I don't hear from you in a while." Bill frowns, and Nancy nods, wiping the tears from her eyes. She gets up and stands, Brian tagging along with her, his little hand in hers. Benji follows them, and Bill imagines them together as a family again, taking the dog out for a walk.

But Nancy opens the door and steps out into the cold. Before she can say anything, Brian runs to the car, waiting at the door. Benji goes to chase him, but Bill grabs his collar and makes him sit. She turns back and regards Bill with a smile that he can't quite return.

"Bill... I don't know what to say."

"There's no rush, Nancy."

"Are you seeing someone?" She looks somewhat hopeful, and it doesn't truly matter because nothing will change the rift that's opened between them. Benji finally sits and Bill lets go of the collar.

“No.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger.” Relief crosses her face. 

"Drive safe."

"I will." She hesitates in the doorway before leaning in and giving Bill a chaste kiss on the cheek. Brian calls for her, and it's the first time Bill's ever heard his son speak louder than a whisper. When they drive away, finally down the end of the road, Bill closes the door and stands in the entryway with his thoughts.

Benji barks once and then runs to the bedroom door.

Still in a slight daze, he bumbles back and opens the door to find Holden getting dressed.

"Was that...?" Holden's voice is a hushed whisper, and Bill keeps his eyes on the ground.

"It's fine. They left."

"You okay?"

He doesn't know how to articulate the feelings that are buzzing around in his head, or how to explain that his stomach feels like it's been flipped upside down. Honestly, he doesn't want to talk about it or consider the thoughts any further. Instead, he just shrugs and grabs his jogging clothes out of the closet.

"I'm going to walk Benji. Stay here, leave, do whatever you want. I'll back in an hour."

Holden opens his mouth to say something but nods and buckles up his belt.

An hour later, coated with sweat while out of breath, Bill returns back home. Benji immediately goes to his water dish, and Bill catches sight of Holden in the kitchen.

"I didn't realize you jog in the morning." Holden's pouring himself some coffee. He pulls out a second mug for Bill, and fills his cup halfway before leaving the bag of sugar out on the counter.

"Started about a month ago."

"Good on you." Holden offers him a mug but Bill shakes his head, pointing down the hall. He disappears to have a quick shower, surprised that Holden's stuck around. Before Nancy had shown up, he had been planning to kick Holden out and have the rest of Sunday to himself. 

But after that unexpected visit, well, Bill doesn't mind the company. Especially because after the conversation with Nancy, Bill's reminded that he's single and not getting back together with her anytime soon. Or ever.

When he returns to the kitchen, Holden's standing at the window and looking into the back yard. Taking up his usual routine, Bill pours Benji's food, pulls out an apple from the fridge, and takes his own cup of coffee. After a small sip he sighs and scoops three spoonfuls of sugar into his drink. 

"It looks like it really poured last night." Bill walks over to Holden and stands beside him, noticing how drenched the yard looks. Holden’s always been the king of small talk.

"Yeah, I noticed it on my run. Some idiot left the window open last night." He glances at Holden, who hides behind a small sip of coffee.

"You run warm, I'm not used to it." Holden in turn raises an eyebrow at Bill and plucks the apple out of his hand, taking a large bite.

"Hey."

Holden chews and swallows.”You haven't kicked me out, Mr. Tench."

"I'm thinking about it now." Bill takes the apple back and bites into it, away from Holden's indent. 

"Look, I know you don't like to talk about things," Holden holds his hand up when Bill's about to talk back. "Certain things that might be a bit delicate..." Bill purses his lips and sips at his coffee, attention back on how soaked the patio furniture is. "But I enjoyed what I did last night. And I wouldn't be adverse to repeat said enjoyment."

"I'm not a faggot, Holden."

"Oh of course not, Bill." There's a hint of sarcasm in his tone, and Bill feels the playfulness in him shift over into a sharp vexation. "No one would know. No stings attached. Do whatever the hell else you need to do. But to be frank? You've been an absolute wreck at work. It doesn’t take a detective or profiler to figure that one out.”

Bill turns to face Holden and he can see Holden flinching, readying himself for some sort of onslaught. The last time Holden talked to him like this, Bill verbally flung him off a cliff. 

"But look - we're going to be doing a lot of traveling together. A lot of late nights. A lot of high tension cases. I'm just being logical here. I don't have time for anyone else and, well..." Holden looks at Bill out the corner of his eye, sizing him up. "You lost Nancy because of your job."

"Get the fuck out." Bill rips the mug out of Holden's hand and grabs him by the back of his shirt collar. He pushes him out towards the front door, grabbing his jacket and shoes, and shoves him outside. Before Holden can protest, Bill slams the door on him. Benji barks.

"Bill, come on. I need to at least call a cab!"

Pretending he doesn't hear him, Bill retires back to his study and puts a vinyl on. It doesn't matter what it is, he doesn't bother to look. He plays it loud.


	2. of course we know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boundaries are pushed. Holden has a death in the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so, this sucks. I've come to realize I hate this fic and the writing style lmao and it started unraveling into something that went beyond what I intended, which explains the extreme delay in updating. i'll try to wrap it up this month, but thank you so much for all the kind words that have been left on this!! it initially started as a two parter, but I wanted to include bits on holden's mum, so here we are. there's gonna be a third part.

“Earth to Bill - where are you? Mars?” Jim Barney laughs over his pint of beer and Bill taps his cigarette into the overwhelmingly full ashtray. He gets a little on his fingers.

“It’s been a long week. Sorry. You were talking about your date?”

“That was a half an hour ago. Jeez, you sure you don’t got something on your mind that you want to share?”

Bill shakes his head. “How’s Atlanta?”

“Still Atlanta, fortunately and unfortunately. People still rioting over the child killer, and well, how he’s not being prosecuted for any of the actual children.” Barney’s lips tighten into a frown. “But you guys did all you could.”

“Holden doesn’t feel very good about it.”

“Holden? I’m not surprised. Man’s not satisfied with anything, is he?”

Bill allows himself a small smile.

“Though to be fair, he poured his heart into that case as if it were his own. Guy's got a lot of guts to be that involved and work that damn hard. No hard feelings, Bill." Barney shakes his head and closes his eyes, raising his glass and taking a long gulp.

"None taken. But yeah. He does." Bill takes a sip of his drink. "How long you in town for? Holden might want to see you, if he hasn't yet."

"I got a couple of nights, it'd be nice to meet up with him. I remember you guys talking about a Wendy too? She around?"

"She is, I think. Either this week or next she's off on an interview. I'll have to double check and get back to you. She's smart as a whip, Jim, you better watch yourself." He grinds the remainder of the cigarette into the tray. He wipes the ash on his pants.

"Great. It's good to see you Bill. You're looking good."

"Thanks. Likewise." Bill gives Barney a slap on the shoulder before he peels himself off the bar stool, stepping out into the brisk night. Winter came faster than anyone had expected and snow's already on the ground. Pulling his coat tighter around him, Bill walks over to his car and steps in. He sits for a moment, thinking of Holden's incredibly stupid face before turning the ignition.

When Bill gets home, he doesn't bother to take off his coat as Benji runs over to him. He grabs his leash and takes him out for an evening walk.

-

The Saturday morning routine is simple. A grueling morning run. Coffee. Bacon and eggs. Cartoons, just how Brian would have liked it.

A card sits on the coffee table, next to his mug. It has ‘Merry Christmas!’ scrawled in Brian’s writing. It’s September. Apparently, Brian won’t be coming to see him for Christmas, so this is the second best thing. Bill sighs. They could have at least called him, instead of sending a fucking card. The divorce moves on as quick as molasses, and Bill doesn’t seem to have the court in his favour. He’s tried rearranging his schedule to make things look a little better, but Nancy’s strange iron grip on him won’t relent.

‘I’m glad he’s not mine.’

The lawyers wouldn’t even believe him if he told them. So Bill keeps his mouth shut and drinks his coffee, alone, on a Saturday morning.

He glances at the phone. Then at the clock. 12:03pm.

*

Within an hour, Holden stands at his door wearing a polo shirt and slacks, holding a vegetable platter very clearly bought at the supermarket. He smiles.

“Really?” Bill raises an eyebrow as he lets him in and Holden shrugs.

“You said bring food. I panicked because my fridge is empty.”

“Right.” Bill closes the door behind him and returns around to see Benji already at Holden’s feet, tail whipping around excitedly.

“Hey boy.” Holden gives him a solid pat before setting the food down on the kitchen counter. He notices Holden linger for a moment before washing his hands. “So? What’s on the agenda for today?”

“I have to deadhead some of the rose bushes out front and plant some annuals for next year.”

“Already thinking forward, huh?”

“Yup.” Bill drags himself to the kitchen to see Holden munching on carrots. “Coffee?”

“Yes please.”

He makes two cups and sets one down in front of Holden. Bill stands beside him and begins to pick at the vegetables.

“See? A good idea.” Holden makes a point of picking up a carrot and biting into it with a sly smile.

“Shut up.”

“You gonna garden shirtless today?” Holden moves a little closer, and Bill can feel the hairs raise on the back of his neck.

“It’s September.”

“Yeah, so what?”

“Dream on.”

He pulls away, taking a handful of celery over to the bedroom and begins to change into his gardening attire. Holden follows him, slowly grabbing a piece of broccoli as he lets his eyes wander, and Bill can see it. Holden's trying to be subtle, but the fool shouldn't have followed him down the hall in the first place.

“So. To clear the air-” Ah. Not so subtle.

“Yeah. I made my mind up. We’ll do it. Just don’t make it weird, Holden.”

“Oh. Okay. Great.” Holden turns on his heel and Bill finishes getting dressed, feeling a twinge in his gut.

Over the past month, he had given it more thought than he originally thought he was going to. Holden did have a point, as much as he hated to admit it (and would never admit out loud). The thing with Nancy- well, it had ruined something for him.

What that something was, he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but he hadn’t thought of any other relationships since the fallout. Not his friendships, not any sort of romantic inclination - all of it had gone to the wind. Jim had been the first person he had seen outside of work for a drink, and that told him more than he needed to know.

Holden pulls his coat back on and takes his coffee mug outside, following Bill around as he does his work in the garden. It’s become a point of pride for him, having one of the best yards in the neighbourhood. While some of his money was going to Nancy, he always able to set some aside to fund his new hobby. Benji was always good company in the too.

“Who takes care of Benji while we travel?”

“Wendy does.”

“And when she’s gone?” Holden leans over Bill’s shoulder, watching him dig into the dirt.

“The neighbours. They have kids that love him.”

“Also, Wendy’s a dog person? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Some people aren’t what they seem, Holden. Figured you’d know that by now.”

Holden makes a face, scrunching up his nose, and Bill smirks.

The day passes with idle chatter, Holden disappearing in and out of the house to top up his coffee. Occasionally, he comes out with a second mug for Bill, which is more than appreciated. When the evening begins to trickle in, coffee is replaced with beer, and Bill feels pleasantly warm by the time he finishes up the last rosebush.

"Looks good, Bill." Holden's sitting in a camping chair, legs spread out with a beer placed precariously on his thigh, Benji lying down beside him.

"Thanks."

Bill pulls off his gloves and shoves them in his back pocket, taking the hedge cutters to the shed in the back. Holden follows him (and Benji follows Holden).

"That's a nice little shed. I didn't notice it last time."

"You were pretty focused on other things last time." Bill slaps his gloves against the work bench, letting the dirt drop to the floor. Holden steps inside and it's cozy, the space small. Bill can feel Holden's warmth. It's nice.

"You're sweaty."

"Yeah. I worked hard." Bill turns to step out, but Holden's in his way as he looks at the tools on the wall. He studies him for a moment, watching his eyes trail along the wall.

"My dad had a shed like this. He used to sit in it and smoke and drink." Holden touches the workbench, wiping some of the dirt off onto the floor. Bill doesn't move as Holden steps closer to him. "When you looked at it from outside, it was like there was a chimney inside. You could see the smoke rising up from the small window that he used to keep open I didn't see him around much. He'd go to work, come home and eat dinner, and go out and smoke. Rinse and repeat. He did that until he died, right in the shed. Heart attack, they think."

"Huh." Bill leans against the work bench and Holden moves into his space. Before Bill can say anything else, Holden grabs the pull chain and plunges them into the dark. "Holden..."

"No one can see us." But Bill can see Holden's smile before he kisses him and Bill's about to protest until Holden drops down on his knees. "Relax."

Bill hesitates, but he tilts his head back and closes his eyes.

-

"Do you want me to go?" Holden stands at the kitchen sink, washing his mouth out. "I brought a toothbrush."

"You brought a toothbrush." Bill repeats, looking at Holden with disbelief. "Did you bring your sleeping bag too?"

"No. I did bring a change of clothes though." They both look to the small briefcase that Bill didn't notice when he first arrived. "But I can call a cab."

Bill looks Holden over and then glances at the door. "Don't bother. Stay."

It brings a smile to Holden's face and he practically bounces over to Bill, kissing him on the mouth. Bill pulls away and reaches for the blinds. When he turns back to look at Holden, his cheeks are flushed.

"Sorry."

"The neighbours can be nosy. The ones with the kids? Not super fond of them." Bill steps back into Holden's space and pins him against the kitchen counter.

"Hence your hesitance in the shed."

"Great work, detective."

Holden sits up on the counter and Bill moves in between his legs, sliding his hands up Holden's thighs. He remembers doing this with Nancy when they first bought the place. His mind tugs at memories that won't stay under the surface and after a few half assed kisses, Holden pulls away.

"Something on your mind, Bill?"

"No." Bill's not used to lying like this - he always laid everything out on the table with Nancy. There were some days that she wanted to hear it and others where he could tell he was talking to a woman with distant thoughts.

"You think that's going to fool me?" And Holden's no idiot, he sees right through bullshit because he himself is a bullshit extraordinaire. Bill sighs and pushes past his memories before kissing Holden on the mouth.

"Distract me then."

Holden's always liked a challenge.

-

The evening spills into the bedroom (where else could it go?) and Bill's asleep within a minute of them laying off the physical contact after his smoke. Holden sleeps on his back, staring at the ceiling, listening to the gentle chirp of the outdoors through the cracked open window. It shouldn't come as a surprise, but Bill likes to smoke before bed after sex. The room smells like sweat and sex and cigarettes, but it's some kind of soothing to Holden.

He wonders if Bill knows if he's a snuggler in bed. The first time he left, he had to pry Bill's arms from him and sneak out. Tonight's no exception with him trying to move in closer to Holden. After a moment, Holden resigns and rolls onto his side and within moments, Bill moves closer and buries his face into Holden's neck.

It takes a while but Holden dozes off, the bark of a neighbour's dog in the distance.

-

When Bill wakes, Holden's not in bed. He sits up. wondering why the hell he asked to stay the night if he was just going to leave like this again. But then it hits him. The smell of coffee and fried eggs. He throws on his housecoat and wanders down the hall into the kitchen only to be surprised by the sight of Holden, in one of Bill's shirts, cooking breakfast.

"You know, I should have pegged you for a shirt thief."

"I'm not stealing. Consider it a payment for my services." Holden smiles, but then falters quickly. "For breakfast. Cooking. Not-"

Bill snorts and walks up beside him, running his hands along his hips.

"Did you just prostitute yourself to an FBI agent, Holden?"

"No, I meant-"

"Because I'm interested." Bill smirks and slides his hands over Holden's ass, grabbing a solid handful.

"When are you going to fuck me?" Holden blurts out and Bill raises an eyebrow, moving away to Holden's side, looking at him.

"Pardon?"

"You know."

"Spell it out for me."

Holden stares at him with a disapproving glare before looking back to the eggs, which are perfectly cooked. He turns the stove off and slides the eggs onto a plate. "I want to be fucked."

"Yeah? How exactly?"

"Jesus Christ, Bill."

"Don't bring our lord and saviour into this."

"In the ass. Alright? I want you to fuck me in the ass." Holden's looking more than pissed off, arms folded across his chest, still swimming in Bill's shirt. It's fully buttoned up and Bill finds himself smiling at Holden's pout. Bill doesn't care about breakfast anymore. In fact, he doesn't really care about anything else other than Holden getting what he wants.

Bill reaches out and starts to slowly undo the buttons. Holden's not looking at him.

"The eggs will get cold."

"You want me to care about the eggs when you say something like that?" Bill shakes his head and leans in to kiss Holden's neck, nipping enough to make Holden squirm. "I don't give a fuck about the eggs.”

And Bill’s never been a dirty talker, or even slightly promiscuous, but there’s something about Holden that flips his brain upside down. Makes him think of the shed and how it’s been years since he’s had sex anywhere else other than a mattress. Having a kid and shifting all responsibilities around that and the FBI, well, it made things difficult to get a groove going.

But Holden seems to be all groove.

When Bill undoes the last button, he can feel Holden’s softened up.

“Do you believe in God?” And Holden’s holding his gaze this time, and Bill feels himself stiffen up. Out of all things he expected to come out of Holden’s mouth next, this wasn’t one of them.

“Not really a conversation I want to have right now.”

“No, I’m serious, Bill. Do you?”

Bill sighs, horny to exasperated in under zero point two seconds. “Yeah, I do. It’s how I was raised, and it’s how we tried to raise-”

“Right. So you’re saying you think a heaven and hell exists?” Bill takes his hands off Holden and steps away, jaw clenched. Was this the kind of bullshit he signed up for?

“Yeah, Holden. Look, what the fuck-“

“My mother died yesterday.”

Bill can hear Benji scratching at the front door. The neighbour’s kids running around in the yard outside. The soft crackle of the eggs, fried and cooling in the pan.

“I’ve never had a family member pass. I never had much family in the first place.” Holden looks over to the window, to the dull sound of the children, and Bill allows his gaze to settle on Holden’s expression. How the kid’s mouth is a fine line, eyes filled with a slight mist, shoulders tense, and Bill wonders how the hell nothing was said earlier.

“I’m sorry, Holden. Why didn't you say anything?”

“I wasn’t there. No one was. My father passed over ten years ago. It was just her in that house.”

And Bill knows all he can do is step forward and pull Holden into his arms, mumbling another a small apology. Holden melts into him almost immediately, wrapping his arms around Bill’s large frame, a soft sob escaping his mouth. It reminds Bill immediately of the panicked breaths Holden’s taken, but just as he pulls back to cup Holden’s face, Holden turns away.

“I don’t want your sympathy.”

“Holden, it’s fine. It seems like you need some.”

“No.” And before Bill can say anything, Holden kisses him. It’s a measure of desperation and this moment should be better than this, better than feeling Holden’s tears on Bill’s face, feeling Holden’s shuddering body grind against his, desperate and needy to fill the sudden void of losing something. Bill wants to tell him that this isn’t the best way to cope with loss, but a sense of hypocrisy washes over him. It’s not his problem. Holden can deal with his grief however he wants. Besides, he doesn’t want an ounce of Bill’s sympathy.

Bill wishes that he could continue late into the night, but he has his own limits. Holden continues to push them, panting and flushed spread out on the bed, begging. When Bill edges him, Holden’s chest flushes deeply up into his neck, across his cheeks, reddening his ears. His back arches, head tilted back and jugular exposed as he pants, Bill slowly thrusting into him as Holden jerks himself off.

“Don’t come until I tell you to.” And Holden takes his hand off himself, wrapping it in the blankets as he turns his head, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted.

Holden’s good. He listens here. Bill wishes he could be like this at work. Where they’ll both be, in seven hours.

“Bill, please…” Holden looks up at him, brown eyes half lidded behind his eyelashes, a hot mess covered in sweat. Bill can feel it dripping down his back. “Please…”

Because he’s growing tired, and he can see Holden’s on the brink on losing it, Bill gives in. He nods, and Holden reaches back around, stroking himself faster than Bill can thrust into him. The last few thrusts are jerky and uneven, but Holden cries out as he finally comes a thick rope across his belly, and Bill has to lean over him and cover his mouth, watching as Holden’s eyes roll back and his tongue licks against Bill’s palm.

Sunday rolls along. Bill wakes to find Holden in his arms, and he wants to pull away because something tugs at his chest at the sight. Eventually he detangles himself, going for his morning run with Benji. When he returns, Holden’s sitting up in bed with a cup of coffee, a book from Bill’s shelf in hand. A mystery that Bill had started, but only got halfway through. Holden smiles at him, still nude from the previous night.

“Good morning, Bill.”

“Morning.” Benji runs onto the bed and settles at Holden’s feet, and Holden reaches over with a smile to scratch behind his ears. Bill strips off his joggers and sweater, tossing it onto the floor. “Need a shower? I was just about to take one.”

“Yes please.” Holden gets up and walks behind Bill, touching his sides and back as they walk to the bathroom. It feels good, the casual touches and Holden’s hands upon him.

There’s not a lot of space in the shower, but they make it work, and Holden wants nothing more than to kiss Bill until their lips are cracked. As if whatever had transpired this morning evaporated into thin air.

-

“What was your mother like?” Bill finally asks as Holden settles on the opposite side of the couch, continuing the book he had picked up earlier.

Holden dog ears a page and looks up with a small frown. “What do you want to hear?” He pushes his foot against the inside of Bill’s thigh and Bill gives him a look.

“I don’t know. You’ve never talked much about your family before.”

“My mother married a military man, and he cheated on her. She stuck around because she had no other option, and he provided for the two of us. She was able to paint in her spare time, and she often had me out of the house. She… there were days where I wouldn’t see her leave the bedroom. I was a high functioning child - I had no choice."

Holden chews the inside of his cheek, and Bill gently touches his knee. “Remember when you dived into the water for me? I’ve heard Barney tell the story.” With Holden opening up to him like this, it’s bizarre. There’s a part of Bill that wants to hear more, but another part of him that’s telling him that This is enough. Stop here. There’s nothing, moving forward like this.

“You’ve talked to Barney?”

“Of course. He and I became good friends when you were away.” Bill looks taken back at this, and Holden offers a consolation smile. “Regardless, my parents wouldn’t have done that for me. I’m grateful, Bill. For what you did.”  
Bill finds himself being the one to flush, his cheeks growing hot. “It was nothing.”

Holden sets down the book and climbs over to Bill, straddling his hips. “It could’ve been, and should’ve been... But thanks to you…” Holden kisses the top of Bill’s head before sliding off his legs and off the couch. “Look where we are now. Did you ever expect this?”

“I meant to ask-”

“What?”

“What is this, Holden? Whatever the hell we’re doing.”

The question catches Holden off guard. With a sigh, he shifts and sits on the arm of the couch, looking at his hands.

“Do you want an answer?” Holden’s voice is quiet, and Bill feels a slight pang of irritation. Holden's asking a question that should be as clear as vodka, but the response feels muddled in his head.

“I don’t know. Yes, no.”

“Well that’s unlike you to be indecisive.” Holden flashes him a teasing grin and Bill can’t help but laugh through his nose. “It doesn’t have to be anything, Bill.”

“Are you seeing other people?”

“No. I wasn’t planning on it. I like this, Bill.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. That’s good.” Holden touches the nape of Bill’s neck with his cold fingers, and Bill leans into the touch. Just as Holden stands, Bill catches the corner of his shirt and tugs him down into a kiss, and he feels Holden press into him, taking advantage of the sudden affection.

-

“Do you feel alright?” Bill shifts the car into park as he pulls up across Holden’s apartment building.

“Fine enough. I’ll be doing some traveling for her funeral. I’ll be the only one arranging it and she lived in Ohio. She wanted a minister and some good words said. I know a handful of people who will attend.”

“Do you want me to come?”

Holden holds his briefcase in his lap, and he drags his fingers across the leathery black material.

“I can, if you want me there.”

Holden turns to look at him and Bill holds his gaze.

“I would like that, Bill.”

“Alright. It’s done. Let me know what I need to do I’ll sort it out at work.”

“Okay.” They don’t kiss in the car, but Bill touches Holden’s shoulder, rubbing it for a slow second before Holden steps out. Bill places his hands back on the wheel and watches Holden walk up the steps before he disappears into his building. After several seconds, Bill watches a light flicker on in Holden’s apartment and he drives down the road, lighting up a cigarette with one hand.


	3. float on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holden returns the favour for Atlanta, though it's in the least expected way. Recovery takes time. Reluctant roots are laid down.

Last minute, they're posted in Tampa. It's a case too far out of the hands of the local PD and just in reach for the FBI. It means research and _money_. The funeral is in a month, that much was out of Holden's hands, and Bill doubts they'll both be able to take time off to go. Neither of them mention it right away, as Holden shifts out of mourning all too easily to help analyze the profile of the killer on the loose. And just as usual, Holden sits pretty, slinging around terms that make the local police force scowl. Bill leans against the wall, arms crossed, slightly proud of him.

They’re met with the usual resistance. No one trusts Holden, and they don’t take him seriously until Bill backs him up with a supportive offhand comment. Wendy’s to arrive after they set up the basics and begin canvasing. He's looking forward to her arrival. Benji's with the neighbours this time, and they were more than happy to have him.

In Tampa, they deal with corrupt cops who turn a blind eye. They deal with far too many victims of young women. Holden and Bill analyze patterns laid out on a shitty uneven wooden table as the ink dries on the photo paper. There’s late nights, coffee with too much sugar, Holden spacing out as he’s asked the same question three times in a row.

They share a hotel room. The first night is spent in separate beds, unsure of how to toe the line in foreign, albeit semi-familiar territory. When it's revealed that the increasing number of cases are more intrinsically brutal, gory, deliberate, and premeditated than initially let on, Holden finds himself crawling into Bill's bed when the lights go out. Bill puts up a bit of a feigned fight, throwing a couple of comments towards Holden.

_'What if someone finds us?'_

_'You got a whole queen sized bed over there, no need to take up more of my space.'_

_'Scared of the dark? The big bad monsters under the bed?'_

Holden bites his shoulder and pushes him back into the bed. It's at this point that Bill relents and pulls Holden under the covers. Even if he were to forget the circumstances of Holden's mother's funeral lying around the corner, Bill's struggling with saying no to Holden. When Holden says he's going to take on a part of the investigation that Bill wants to do, he lets it slide. It's not like him.

When Wendy arrives, she has her eyebrow raised half the time.

"What the hell happened between you two? I know you worked well together, but not this well. I feel like someone's being a pushover." Holden's got a pen cap in his mouth, and he's looking at Wendy as he writes on a case file against Bill's back, as Bill leans over to light a smoke. The whole thing is comical looking, and Bill snaps at Holden to lay it off. Holden makes a comment about his lighter and how nice it is, and Bill stomps out of the room. He hears Holden tell Wendy, _'I got him that lighter in Atlanta for saving my life,'_ and she laughs in response.

He thinks of Atlanta. How Holden almost died in the filthy waters of the river. How here in Tampa, it's a different story. A puzzle of its own where Bill doesn't have any family factors affecting him - no impending divorce, no child custody issues, no fucked up child psychiatry visits. This is Bill Tench at his best, and it makes a difference. They're getting closer every day - it doesn't feel like they're running in circles this time.

Somewhere in the third week, with Bill reading a mystery novel under the dim glow of the hotel room lamplight, Holden pushes his face into Bill's side for a moment and mumbles, "I'm glad you're here this time."

"I was there last time."

"Not like this."

And Bill runs his hand along Holden's arm, dipping into his neck. He grips him gently, forcing Holden up for a fleeting kiss before he returns back to his novel, and Holden is spilling onto him. It reminds him of Nancy, in the blissful newly wed loungings that they partook in upon the first few days of moving into their home.

Holden bites him again, this time enough to leave a mark, and Bill sets his book down before pushing Holden back into the bed. "You want to play this game, huh?"

"Maybe." Holden's smirk is coy, and Bill wonders for a moment of the consequences of leaving a terrible hickey above his collar. But Bill isn't that type of person, not nearly as juvenile as Holden would seem to be.

Instead, his hand wanders Holden's naked torso until he reaches his neck, gently wrapping a hand around his throat. Holden's eyes widen for a moment and he nods ever so slightly, licking his lips.

"Holden, how am I not surprised?" Bill keeps a neutral expression as he brushes his thumb against Holden's mouth, parting his lips slightly before Holden's tongue darts out to encourage Bill's thumb into his mouth. It's wet and warm and immediately has Bill rock hard. " _Fucking Christ._ You're the monster under the bed I have to look out for."

-

The lamplight is dim and Bill watches as Wendy reaches for her coffee, missing it as she grabs blindly for about five seconds. When she looks up and finally grabs it, she notices Bill looking at her.

"What?"

"Nothing. The bags under the eyes suit you."

"Thanks." Wendy sneers at him before she resumes her writing. Holden walks into the room with an additional three coffees.

"Oh thank god." Wendy reaches out and Holden hands her the cup of dark roasted ambrosia. He sets Bill's in front of him before sitting on his desk. The clock ticks past four am.

This is what Bill thrives on. Late nights. A hunger deep in his belly because they last ate at eight pm. The three smartest people in the room, putting in more effort than the local police department. This is what the BSU is for. This is what the interviews paid off for. The profile's almost complete. Holden stares at their wall, at the photos, at the evidence, and holds his chin in his hands. He looks gorgeous, sleep deprived and deep in thought.

-

"We're not going to make my mother's funeral, are we?"

"You're going to go." Bill leans against the steering wheel as he pulls up to a red light, eyes searching every individual that fits the profile they're searching for.

"I can't leave work like that."

"Holden. Don't you remember Atlanta? Certain things are okay to leave work for."

"We needed you then. I hated you leaving every single week."

Bill sighs heavily when the light pings green and he drives slowly through the intersection before pulling over into the gas station. "Holden, it looks like a stalemate here. This investigation is going to take time. We made the initial progress, but now it's slow. Just go, I'll call you in the evening."

"The longer it takes, the less like we'll figure it out. We need everyone on it now. Me especially."

"Just pump the gas, Holden." Bill steps out of the car. He can hear Holden's irritated slamming of the door as Bill steps away, and a part of him wishes someone else could have grabbed the case. But no, they needed the boy wonder Holden, hard ass Bill, and femme fatale Wendy on this one. Granted, Bill hadn't busted his ass to stick around in Virginia and be a paper pusher.

This is where he needs to be.

The bell chimes as he enters and Bill walks straight to the counter, grabbing his wallet.

"Marlboro hundreds, thanks." Bill counts his change, noticing that he's been spending a little less on food this trip. Most nights, him and Holden stay holed up in the motel eating whatever leftovers they had from the day before. If there's nothing in the mini fridge, they order room service and charge it to the bureau. Wendy sometimes meets them for dinner, but she's always been a lone wolf.

The cashier turns around and grabs his smokes from the top shelf, fingers barley reaching the cartons. When he slides them down and sets the pack on the counter, their face grows pale. Bill raises an eyebrow.

"I don't want no trouble, mister. Wallet on the counter, register open. Now." Bill looks over his shoulder to see a young man, white, with dirty blonde hair and fearful green eyes, standing a few feet behind him, a pistol in his hands.

Not their profiled killer. Definitely not. Kid's just being a waste of time.

"Come on now. No need." Bill puts his hands up, motions with his eyes at the cashier to open the register. Bill slowly sets his wallet on the counter, holding eye contact with the robber. The cashier, no older than a teenager fresh out of high school, can't peel his eyes off the gun, and Bill feels his jaw begin to clench. "Open the register, and we'll get out of his way-"

The fog clears from the cashier kid's eyes and his expression grows fierce. In a fraction of a second, Bill can feel several things change at once.

First, the kid reaches behind the counter. A shotgun, Bill assumes. Second, he can feel Holden's eyes on him from the car through the glass door, he doesn't dare look back. Third, the familiar loud ring of a gun going off deafens him and makes his body flinch.

And last of all, a spike of hot pain shoots through his side and he feels himself stumble against the counter. The kid's eyes go wide and he aims down the shotgun, managing to get off a single shot before he's knocked back from the force of the weapon. Several more handgun shots fire off in quick succession.

For a moment, Bill considers reaching for his own holstered gun but decides against it, knowing that he couldn't be quick enough to get off a shot to save his own life. Instead, he kneels down, gritting his teeth, and tries to regain some sense in the moment.

Before he can even try to get himself back up, Holden is kneeling at his side, speaking words that can't break through the ringing in his ears. His hand is tight on Bill's arm for a fleeting moment before he disappears, and Bill struggles to breathe.

He rolls onto his side, moving slowly as he feels himself succumbing to shock, pressing his back against the metal shelving. With as much pressure as he can exert, Bill places his hand to his back, grimacing in pain when he can feel the bullet's entry point. Looking down to see a lack of blood tells him that there's no exit wound, and that he's fucked.

Out the corner of his eye, he notices Holden crouched down beside a body and upon closer inspection with a squint, the body lacks a head. Holden's face is pale, and Bill bites back a groan. It's just a flesh wound. Can't be much else.

Holden gets back on his feet and disappears behind the counter for a moment before he returns to Bill, ripping off his own jacket to apply pressure to the bleeding wound. He can't hear a word that Holden's saying, and he can hardly focus on his mouth as the surroundings of the shitty gas station bar begin to blur out.

 _"Brian."_ He can hear himself say, and Holden presses a kiss to the top of his head.

-

Wendy and Holden are the first ones at the hospital when Bill wakes. Everything feels like a nightmarish blur, but Bill feels too high to be concerned.

The doctors seem to have gotten the morphine IV a few too many dosages above just right, but Bill can't bring himself to complain. Not when Holden sits at the edge of the bed, concern written all over his beautiful face. There's something about him in his white button up shirt, hair an absolute mess, that seems almost angelic.

Time seems to disappear into the void.

At one point, he imagines Ted Gunn in his room. The bald headed fuck giving him a condescending comment about _how could he risk his life with the BSU where it's at?_ However long later, in a more conscious state, Holden tells him that Ted stopped by to congratulate him on his bravery. Bravery? Bill doesn't remember any of that. Only snide remarks with a half smile.

He remembers Holden in the hospital after his panic attacks. Remembers the plethora of pills he was sent home with, and how Holden treasured those. How fragile Holden was on the flight home, how beyond pissed Bill had been. He could have been a bit easier on him but at that time, Bill had been seething with anger. The way Holden had acted at the time felt so childish.

Now he knows a little bit more.

He remembers Holden in the hospital, the second time, absolutely ashamed to have fallen off a bridge. How Bill had jumped in without much thought. How that event unfolded everything in front of them.

Bill listens to the doctor when he tells him about the morphine tablets he's sending him home with. In the end, he won't use them. It feels too good. Too easy.

_'The shooter just missed your right kidney- well, my left, your right. You're lucky to be alive, Mr. Tench.'_

That's why he has two, right?

-

Bill misses his daily jogs, but he's lucky to have Holden and Benji to keep him from going too stir crazy. Sitting on the couch, Benji curls up at his side and Bill has to be careful to not let the dog lean on him too heavily. Everything still feels tender, a week later. The doctor said it would be months before he would feel normal again.

One of Holden's books rests on his stomach as he tilts his head back, feeling a nap coming on. He can hear Holden folding some of the laundry in the bedroom.

Just as he's about to doze off, the doorbell rings.

"Christ." Bill grunts and Benji is immediately off the couch, galloping to the door.

There's a small limp in his step, and it always hits him hardest when he moves from sitting to standing. When he opens the door, he's surprised to see Nancy standing with her arms crossed.

"Bill Tench. Why is I had to hear from one of your FBI buddies about what happened?" Bill's surprised. Whenever Nancy was angry, it took months for it finally come out. Bill would be putting dishes away in on a hot day in August and she would bring up an instance from a rainy afternoon in May. And it was always something that had completely slipped Bill's mind. "Why couldn't I reach you? Why didn't you answer any of your messages?!"

He hadn't forgot to call Nancy. Every day he thought about what she would say in response, about how she would mention Brian, guilt trip in some sort of way. He didn't need that right now. He didn't want it. "I meant to call you-"

"But clearly you didn't." She pauses for a moment before her expression softens. "Are you okay?" She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"Managing, thanks."

"Where did he...?"

Bill gently pats the spot on his right abdomen and Nancy's mouth forms a small 'o'. "Bill... I can't believe after all these years, it finally happened. You have to stop working there. It's getting more and more dangerous these days and you can't expect to keep up. It never used to be like this. Times are changing."

"Nancy, relax. This is a nice break from Quantico. Well, not this time clearly." He remembers the robber on the ground, hardly an adult. Remembers Holden speaking wordlessly to him. The kiss on the top of his head.

It makes him dizzy.

"Bill, Bill, take a seat." She senses the change and takes his arm to lead him over to the couch. He can see her eyes flicker to the coffee table. _A Single Man_ by Christopher Isherwood lies on top of the files, photographs of dead women with bruises littering their body. The kind of stuff he needed to lock away when they lived together. This time, she keeps her comments to herself.

Instead, her hand gingerly brushes through his hair, and his stomach does a weird flip.

"Bill... When I heard... I couldn't imagine this earth without you on it."

Bill says nothing in response.

"I don't think I realized what you were going through." Nancy pulls her hand back and she reaches into her purse, pulling out an envelope. She hands it to Bill, and he takes it with a questioning expression. "I was just so scared for Brian, and I was scared to do it alone. But I think I got a better handle on it now. I don't think either of us would mind if you came back home." She gently touches his cheek and Bill smiles at her before opening the envelope.

Black and white photographs of Brian, back to when he was three. A picture of him and Brian on a swing set, his little hands struggling to hold himself in place. The next one is him on the first day home, surrounded by toys and handmade gifts, with Bill looking proud but out of focus. It makes his heart hurt. He misses Brian. Misses when things were good, whenever that was.

"Nancy, we're not married anymore. It won't be like how it was. I'm still deep in my work - that's not changing."

"Just... think on it and call me, okay? It's not the same without you. We could work on it." She leans down and kisses the top of his head, and Bill feels whiplash in his chest. "Do you want me to stay?"

"No, it's alright." Bill tucks the photos back in the envelope.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Bill gets back to his feet, grunting ever so slightly as Benji barks at him. "Hey, hey. Shush." With a whine, Benji trots off to the bedroom. "Where is Brian today?"

"He's with my sister. He's not too good with car rides right now, got sick the other day when I took him to school. We usually walk together when the weather's nice."

"How's he doing in school? Getting along well with the other kids?"

The rest of the house is quiet as they catch up for several minutes, and when Nancy leaves and Bill shuts the door behind her, he exhales a large sigh that causes a slight stitch in his side. He leans against the door, taking a deep breath.

Eventually, he makes his way to the bedroom, where Holden lays on the bed with Benji flopped over beside him, head resting on Holden's stomach.

"Your dog is more of a snuggle bug than you are." Holden offers a playful smile, and Bill shakes his head.

"Sorry about that. Wasn't expecting her to come by. Seems like her new boyfriend broke up with her. Or something."

Bill looks at the folded laundry on his side of the bed and begins to put it away. Holden reaches out and grabs Bill's wrist.

"Hey, don't. I got it." The fucking baby face. The face he's grown so accustomed to over the past couple of months.

"Holden, you've been doing too much lately. It's fine. Let me do some things on my own."

"Bill, you need to recover. This is serious stuff."

He plucks Holden's hand off and goes to hang up his clothes, putting the remainder away in silence. As he puts the last of his socks in the drawer, he turns to see Holden sitting up, Benji gone. The collar jingles out in the living room. He still has his shirts to hang up but he feels tired.

"Bill, I am..." He pauses, collecting his thoughts for a moment. Oh boy. "I am so sorry if I'm coming in between anything."

Bill sighs and rubs his brows.

"You're not. _I'm_ sorry you missed your mother's funeral because of this bullshit." He gestures to his side, still feeling a pang of irritation when he remembered waking up, asking Holden about how long he had been in the hospital. Enough days that Holden hadn't been able to make it to Ohio. Bill remembers chewing him out and Holden shut him up with a kiss, not even checking if anyone was in the room. Idiot.

Even then, Holden's been the only person that Bill can manage a sincere apology to. And it's Holden's turn to rub his face gently before he flops back onto the bed, sighing as he stares at the ceiling.

"It's better than attending two funerals in one week. I _cannot_ believe this all just transpired."

Bill mulls over his next choice of words, anticipating the push back from Holden. He just wants to rip the fucking bandage off.

"You should probably go."

"What?" Holden sits up quickly. He has that deer in the headlights look he gets when he's overwhelmed, and Bill can't help but smile even though he feels a tiny fear sink in. It's becoming a familiar sensation. But he tries his best to ignore it. Sometimes, it doesn't take much.

"You know there's nothing here. Holden, I'm an old divorced guy with a limp. I'll retire late and then probably walk straight into my grave the same day. You're young, you've got great credentials from the BSU. Go do something worthwhile."

Holden looks absolutely mortified. Silence transpires once again and Bill feels as though his point has sunk in. He had expected a weight to lift off his chest but instead, he feels heavy.

"Bill... you can't mean that."

One of the things that Bill hates the most is when Holden studies his face. The kid's an ace at reading expressions, at pulling information out of people when they don't even know they're doing it. There's a reason he let him cross the line during the interviews - Holden's done things that nobody else could have even imagined. But when it's turned on Bill, he can feel Holden dissecting every little twitch in his face.

"Come on, Holden. We both know this."

Holden crawls to the edge of the bed towards the baseboard, the bedpost still broken from Bill's fit of rage months ago, his fingers wrapping around the wood as he sits up tall. Bill tries not to waver, standing his ground as he stares Holden down with pursed lips.

"No, Bill. I don't think we do. I don't believe you think that either." Holden's voice is quiet and Bill hates this.

"You can't get married if you stay here. No kids, no grandchildren. I can't take that away from you, Holden."

"I don't care, Bill. I don't want any of that." Holden reaches out his hands, leaning slightly over the baseboard and Bill contemplates walking away. His side hurts from standing but it's a weakness he refuses to reveal. "I want this. I want you."

And Bill knows better. Knows this is just some temporary thing. But he relents. He refuses to fool himself any longer for what he wants.

He moves towards Holden and kisses him so hard that it leaves them both breathless. When Bill finally pulls away, Holden momentarily holds his gaze so closely that it leaves goosebumps across Bill's skin.

"Now _lie down_. You need your rest." Holden tugs him around the bed and Bill follows, lying down slowly. His body relaxes as it sinks into the mattress and Holden leans over him, kissing his forehead.

"What were you saying to me? Back in the gas station?"

"Hm?" Holden slides off the bed to take over putting away the rest of the laundry. There's only a little bit left. Bill can live with that.

"You... kissed my forehead - which, Christ Holden-"

"You might have died. I was-... not thinking." Holden pauses as he grabs a hanger for one of Bill's classic button ups. "You know, dying in a gas station in Tampa would have been a shitty way to go. I'm glad I was able to save you the fate. It could've been so much worse. I'm glad it wasn't."

And it takes a second for Bill to remember his words, and he rolls his eyes to the high heavens and beyond. "You didn't save me. Last time I checked, you didn't preform the surgery to get that piece of shit bullet out of me."

"No. I think it was the kiss that saved you though. Gave you the courage to carry on."

Bill smiles, grabbing the second pillow and shoving it behind his to watch Holden move about. After a few moments of Holden closing drawers and buttoning up shirts on the hangers, Bill begins to close his eyes.

"I was begging. For you to stay with me. It felt like a hostage situation I had already lost."

Bill opens his eyes again, feeling sluggish from nearly being dragged off to sleep. Holden looks almost sheepish and he stands awkwardly in front of the closet, wringing his hands together.

"Did you say I lov-"

"Yeah, yeah. I did. I don't want to hear another word about it."

Bill can't help the laugh that escapes him. "You were always a prima donna."

"Get some rest. Am I going to have to get Wendy-"

"God no. Alright, alright, I'm resting."

"And no smoking." Holden walks up to the bedside table and opens it, pulling out the pack of smokes hidden away. Bill groans. "You know what the doctor said. It'll be nice to have some fresh air in here. I'll wake you in an hour."

And before Bill can say anything, Holden leans over him and softly presses a kiss to his lips, tender and sweet, and Bill feels his stomach drop.

This is where he was meant to be. This is home.

-

"I'm surprised to see you back so soon." Wendy crosses her arms as Bill enters the office, and a few confetti poppers go off. He takes notice of the 'welcome back Bill' banner hanging over his office door.

"This was unnecessary, but I appreciate it. Though, you better pick that shit up." One of the new interns that Bill's never seen before hands him a glass of something bubbly, and Bill thanks him before he looks to see Wendy raising a glass.

Bill can see Holden refusing to look up from his desk, a coy smile tugging at his lips.

"It's, uh, good to be back. Thanks." Bill raises the glass and has a sip before he walks past Holden's desk, setting the glass down in front of him. "I can't drink, doctor's orders. This is your punishment." And it doesn't matter because Holden is all smiles.

"By the way, congratulations on bagging the killer." Bill turns around and gives Wendy a confident nod, and she returns it with a smirk.

"Would've taken you boys too long. Glad I was there to clean up." She's smarter than him, cunning like a fox, but Bill won't ever admit it out loud. She knows it already.

-

The wind whips at their trench coats and the blustery, cloudy weather seems to have perfectly timed itself for their arrival. Out of fear for ruining them, Holden holds the bouquet of flowers close to his chest as he steps out of the car. White lilies, daisies, baby's breath, and a few white roses from Bill's garden. Holden had taken utmost care to ensure the flowers traveled safely from Virginia, and Bill had been incredibly touched when Holden had asked him if he could cut a few to bring in his floral arrangement.

Bill steps up beside Holden and places his hand on the small of his back, the other holding a black umbrella, helping guide him forward. The cemetery seems empty, but Bill takes his caution and pulls his hand back once Holden starts making his way to the grave site.

"Should I have gotten all white? It feels too traditional now."

"Holden, the arrangement looks fine."

They make their way through various paths, passing large monuments until they come across a simple black marble tombstone. Her name, Martha Ford, is engraved, with a set of red flowers already wilting away on the grass.

> _'Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.'_   
>  _– Matthew 11:28_

"Martha, huh? Thought she'd have a weird name like you. Did you choose the phrase there?"

When Holden doesn't reply, Bill looks to his side to see Holden's eyes welling with tears. Very gently, Bill rubs his shoulder. "It's alright. She's good now." It's a soft mumble, and Bill feels himself at a loss of words for anything more enlightening. For him, this has already been said and done, processed and cleared. He can tell for Holden, quite clearly, this is the first time he's been deeply affected by loss.

Holden had told him he hadn't shed a single tear at his father's funeral, or hadn't said any words in memoriam. Bill remembers the shit show that had been his father's funeral.

"I'm sorry we're late to this."

"I think it's better this way." Holden steps forward and places the flowers down on the ground, the plastic encasing them blowing in the wind. For a moment, they watch the bouquet, curious if it's going to roll away. It seems heavy enough to leave it and they both take a few steps back upon the realization.

"Do you want to say anything?" Bill asks as he looks over his shoulder, snaking an arm around Holden's shoulder. Holden leans into him, shaking his head.

Rain begins to fall and Bill sighs. "Typical." Holden plucks the umbrella from Bill's hand, they had anticipated the weather, and opens it, holding it above both of their heads.

For a moment, Bill studies Holden's profile. After several moments, Holden catches him looking.

"What?"

"I want you to be around for my next visitation with Brian."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I think it would be good. We don't have to explain everything but... you were good with him. I think it would be good with him, I just have to figure this out with Nancy and the lawyers."

"This is what you want?"

Holden turns and faces Bill, and Bill tightly squeezes both of Holden's shoulders.

"Yeah. It is."

There's an undoubtable gleeful expression on Holden's face, but he holds back, eyes still misty eyed over the circumstances of their current trip. Before discussing the matter any further, Holden turns back to the grave and they stand, listening to the rain smatter against the umbrella. After another moment of silence, he buries his face into Bill's shoulder and Bill wraps his arms around him, cradling the back of Holden's head, holding him close and safe.

"Let's go."

"You sure?"

"As I'll ever be." Holden pulls away and takes one last glance at the tombstone. The rain seems to be picking up and Holden stays close to Bill's side under the umbrella. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Of course."

They turn their backs on the grave, and Holden continues with the umbrella until Bill plucks it out of his hand for almost stabbing him in the eye.

"Where do you want to go for dinner? I saw a good diner on the highway." Holden's love for diner food has always been paradoxical to Bill, considering the kid's intense pickiness.

"Sounds game to me. I'm easy." Bill closes the umbrella and steps into the car, turning the ignition.

Holden leans over the console, catching Bill by surprise with another kiss. "I know you are." Holden mumbles against his lips, and Bill pulls away with a faint blush creeping up the back of his neck.

"Keep it in your pants, Ford."

Holden leans back into his seat smiling as he glances out the window. He takes a last glance of the cemetery before the car rolls away, taking the exit onto the highway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well shit, there it be. the end of this fic!! hope y'all enjoyed it, I found joy in writing this last chapter. tried to do a few throw backs to the first chapter, and I hope it was alright. once again, comments are incredibly appreciated, and for those who have followed this story, thank you!!!! your words of encouragement pushed me to finish this and not leave it as one of my forgotten WIPs! I feel like I'm in a holden/bill phase again right now, so I'll probably write another few things for them. hope y'all are staying safe in this strange time <3 
> 
> ps. the chapter titles are based on modest mouse songs - so if they're your jam, check 'em out! they were a big inspiration for me for this fic!


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